And made the water which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person
It beggared all description, she did lie
In her pavilion, cloth of gold, of tissue,
O’erpicturing that Venus, where we see
The fancy outwork nature. On each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colored fans whose wind did seem,
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.